


Pancake Philosophy

by misura



Category: Burnt (2015)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-19 15:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13126242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Adam makes Tony breakfast.





	Pancake Philosophy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tannne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tannne/gifts).



"You know, Helene thinks that cooking for someone is an expression of love," Adam said.

Tony had woken up to the sound of banging pans and Adam half-humming, half-singing a song Tony hadn't immediately recognized. He thought it might have been French.

"You disagree?" he asked. "This is not love?" After three months, Tony felt secure enough in their relationship to make the question sound like a joke, like the answer didn't really matter.

"This?" Adam turned around, frying pan in hand, gesturing. "This, yes. All of this is love, sure. If you want to sound like you're either French or an incurable romantic."

Tony shrugged. He thought of himself less like a romantic and more like someone who was very bad at letting go. Given the present, perhaps that was not always a disadvantage. He'd gotten Adam in the end, after all, albeit one who had changed somewhat from the Adam Tony had fallen in love with in Paris.

Less pretty, but more stable, more reliable. Better, one might say. Less likely to break his heart.

"Then what would you say love is?"

Adam looked vaguely annoyed. "We were talking about what cooking is an expression of."

"Ah," said Tony. He knew about wines and flavors, and when food was properly cooked so that people would enjoy it. He knew the difference between quality product and over-priced rubbish.

All of which was nothing but another way of saying that he was not a chef. He liked watching people cook, particularly Adam, yet that was where it ended. He was not a chef. Simple.

"Of course," he said. "And?"

Adam rolled his eyes, as if Tony was the one being ridiculous here. "I told her that cooking is an expression of self. I am, therefore I cook." He deposited a perfect pancake on a plate and presented it to Tony. "Voila. Eat up, it's good."

"You are what you cook, hm?"

"Something like that," Adam said, pouring himself a glass of grapefruit juice and sitting down to watch Tony eat. Tony'd felt a bit self-conscious, the first time it happened but by now, it had almost become normal. Something Adam did, like leaving his dirty shirts on the floor all the time, instead of picking up after himself like a normal person.

Endearing, almost. Like a puppy. "So what you are saying is, you are a fluffy pancake?" Tony arched an eyebrow.

Adam sighed. "You take this way too literally. Try: I'm delightful and delicious and sure, I'll let you have fluffy, whatever the hell that means."

"You are sweet and you taste good, even if ultimately, you are bad for me," Tony said.

"I'm not going to win this one, am I? Fine. Forget I said anything. Just shut up and eat your pancake. I can make more if you want them - or I _could_ , if I feel like it. If all you're going to do is make fun of me, I might not. Up to you."

Tony ate his pancake, feeling Adam's eyes on him. He wondered what Adam saw, what changes Adam noticed in Tony. How far he'd departed in Adam's eyes from the Tony who'd made eyes at him in Paris.

Perhaps in another three months, he might work up the courage to ask.


End file.
